


Of Prisoners and Quintessons

by Quiet_Shadow



Series: Prisoners and Quintessons [1]
Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Breeding, M/M, Mutual Non-Con, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 22:51:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6132898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quiet_Shadow/pseuds/Quiet_Shadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captured by Quintessons during their mad dash over the Allspark's possession, Megatron, Optimus and their respective crews find themselves sharing a common hell as Quintessons tries to breed them. Megatron is less than impressed... though his respect for the Autobot Prime went up a few notches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Prisoners and Quintessons

**Author's Note:**

> A little something I wrote a while ago. A looong while ago. Finally decided to post it after going through old files. It's a little short, but hopefully enjoyable for you readers. :)

The moment he’d get free, Megatron swore he was going to personally hunt down any and all Quintessons who had the bad luck and taste to leave their ‘Pan Galactic Co-Prosperity Sphere’. Oh yes, he would hunt them down and gleefully tear into them, ripping them apart with his bare hands, tearing off their tentacles, gutting them, burning them,... The number of possibilities for revenge was endless.

In the meanwhile, though, he groaned as an electrical discharge hit the small of his back, forcing him to thrust his hips forward and up and bury his spike deeper into the helpless mech he was currently bound to. Despite the gag stuffed in his mouth, the Autobot keened audibly, and Megatron fought down a wave of annoyance, uneasiness and regret. Of all the things the Quintessons who had captured him, his small crew and the Autobots they had been pursuing could make them do, this… this parody of interfacing was the last thing he had expected.

Slag them to the Pit! He thought with rage as he tried once more to pull at his restraints, to no avail. His attempts only served to make his body rock, and the Autobot straddling him just moaned louder as the spike of the Warlord slide inside him. Megatron shuttered his optics briefly. Slag it. Slag it all. In all those millions of stellar cycles, he had built himself an image, a reputation among his troops and his enemies alike. He was known as violent, as cruel, as clever, as strong, as deceptive,... He was known as many things, but never had been known as a… a rapist!

And thank to those fragging Quintessons, that was exactly what he had been turned into!

… He wasn’t a victim, or at least he refused to acknowledge himself as one. The Autobot wasn’t raping him as much as Megatron was. The Warlord wasn’t a victim, and neither were his warriors -- even Starscream. The Autobot crew, though...

Blue optics, nearly white with fear, pain and unwilling lust looked down at him. Megatron was especially aware of the coolant drops pooling in the corners of those optics that the blue and red mech was trying not to spill.

His respect for the mech currently riding his spike against his will went up a notch. Given the circumstances, he wouldn’t have faulted one of his Decepticons for weeping, and he definitely approve of a mech who was trying his hardest not to give up to despair as this Autobot Prime tried to.

Movement in the corner of his optics made the Decepticon glance to the side of the berth he had been strapped to, and despite the gag spreading his mouth open, his lips curled in a snarl. A slimy tentacle brushed against him, and he tensed slightly. The Quintesson observing him clicked, obviously unhappy as he was joined by another member of his brethren. On top of Megatron, the Prime tensed too, his valve tightening by reflex around the Warlord’s thick spike, and the two of them keened -- well, the Autobot keened; Megatron just grunted in a gruff manner. Frag, the Prime was tight…

“The results aren’t as good as you stated they’d be,” one of them said. “The monitors have yet to pick up the slightest sign this one,” he said as his tentacles brushed against the little Autobot, “has been impregnated. I thought you said the Carrier was more than receptive enough and that the process would only take a few cycles?”

Megatron tensed. Oh, how he wished he could free himself and throw himself at that bastard! No way he was ‘impregnating’ an Autobot, especially against both their will!

“They haven’t been copulating for long enough yet,” the other dismissed easily enough. “The breeder,” he said as he looked at Megatron with a small smirk, “has large amount of virile substance to release into the Carrier’s body, but he’s being stubborn, like most of his brethren. Give it a few more solar cycles, and I can guarantee the Carriers will all be full with the first load of young.”

“I hope so,” the first Quintesson grunted. “I invested a lot into that operation of yours. I hope the sell of the first group of offsprings will allow me to gain the double of what I loaned you.”

“It easily should. You know how much young Cybertronians you can train yourself are in demand in the core of the Empire. I can assure you that home-bred slaves will be a hit. It’s far easier to take them in young than to capture wild ones,” the second Quintesson clicked, speaking in a rather pedantic manner.

The first one just humphed. Megatron’s optics twitched. Selling Sparklings as slaves? If the Decepticons had been ruling Cybertron as they should have, he’d have make sure the Quintessons were the first threat to be eliminated! The nerve of those freaks! The Autobot’s optics had widened, the Warlord noticed, and a grim look had appeared on his face briefly, along with determination, before being erased by a wince as Megatron’s spike buried itself deeper.

Unf. At least the mech wasn’t broken and was lucid enough to share some of Megatron’s mindset. Good.

“What do you intend to do with the breeders once the Carriers are all knocked up? Do you wish to put them down?” Megatron tensed again.

“No need to,” the other Quintesson clicked. “Cybertronians all have internal reproductive systems. I’ll just have some of them become Carriers as well and keep the others as breeders while we try and capture a few more mechs to use as incubators. Five pairs won’t be enough to answer the demand I’m picturing.”

“I really hope you know what you’re doing,” the first Quintesson sighed as he turned away, walking toward another berth installed a few meters away, on which two more mechs were tied up just as Megatron and the Prime were. It was Lugnut, his loyal servant, and a large green mech belonging to the Prime’s team, the Warlord recognized.

The indignity of it all… But still, the current situation made him want to smirk. General Strika’s team, once they caught up with them, was going to enjoy massacring the whole Quintesson crew, and he’d take great pleasure in watching her rescue her Consort.

A new electric discharge made him roar as it make his body ark, and he noticed to his shame that he had released his transfluid this time. The Prime’s valve was milking it almost greedily, but some of it still trailed down the length of his spike and out of the red and blue body atop him. The coolant gathered into the Prime’s optics started to leak, making Megatron grimace.

That wouldn’t do. That wouldn’t do at all if the Prime broke now. When Megatron broke someone, it was through harsh beatings and through victories over his adversary. Not because someone was using his body in a way so repulsing! Not because someone was being forced to carry his offspring!

… The Prime wasn’t Sparked up yet, granted, but he didn’t think Strika’s team and her reinforcement would make contact before at least a decacycle. Given their current… ‘situation’, it was more than enough time for those slagging Quintesson slavers’ plans to come into fruition and for him and his Decepticons to Spark up the whole Autobot team. A team which, as far as he had seen, were composed of technicians, not warriors. Civilians, or low-level workers with barely enough training to defend themselves and their Bridges.

That was… most dishonorable. And it would be putting them all into a very strange but also very dangerous situation.

There would be no way he’d let anyone carrying a potential heir of his get back to the Autobots -- not when he knew full well how the hypothetical Sparkling could and would be used against him and his troops. And he didn’t think Lugnut or even Blitzwing would let an heir of them go as well.

Fantastic. Just… fantastic.

His shuttered his optics briefly to think before reaching a decision. Lighting them again, he glanced down at his Decepticon badge and let it flash briefly, several times. He repeated the pattern three or four times before the Autobot’s attention was caught. Megatron felt a moment of doubt, wondering if the Prime even knew Cybertronian optical code -- for it wasn’t taught to every Autobot anymore, according to Shockwave’s discreet reports -- before the Autobot let his badge flash back.

Ah. So he knew the code. Good. At least they’d be able to communicate.

‘Are you alright, Autobot?’ he transmitted by code. Let’s try to be polite and considerate first before asking anything else.

‘Hurt’ was the only word transmitted back after a long moment of nothing but groans and moans.

Megatron tried not to show his discomfort at the answer. Of course it had to hurt. The Prime, despite being the tallest member of his team -- asides of the lumbering green mech -- was still several heads smaller than Megatron. The Quintessons hadn’t exactly been ‘kind’ and ‘tender’, nor had they truly tried to fully arouse them before forcing them together. The Prime was taking his spike, true, but given the size difference, it had to be extremely uncomfortable to say the least, especially without foreplay to sooth the penetration or make him relax.

‘I’m sorry,’ he send briefly, looking straight at the smaller, younger mech as if he was an equal to show he truly meant it. The Prime just looked at him with sad, wet optics. His valve rippled around Megatron’s, adding to the discomfort and awkwardness of the situation. ‘Will you tell me your name, Autobot?’

‘... Optimus Prime.’

Optimus… The name didn’t ring any bell in Megatron’s processor, but he committed it to memory. ‘Very well, Optimus Prime. Are you waiting for any reinforcement, any help from Cybertron?’

The Prime seemed to hesitate before answering truthfully, for which Megatron added another notch of approval -- truth in the face of a difficult situation was better than empty lies. ‘No. Our signal didn’t get through.’

Megatron had thought so. ‘Listen to me, Optimus Prime. My own troops will be here in a matter of solar cycles. When they do, you’ll be freed as well.’ In a manner of speaking. If any of those Autobot were indeed carrying Decepticon offsprings… his own included… then they would only swap a captor for another. But no Decepticon would force himself on them like those Quints had forced them to, Megatron could swear it. The Autobots would be well-treated, their needs cared for, and their eventual offsprings delivered in optimal conditions and not ripped from their arms to be sold the moment they were out of their bodies.

The Prime seemed to realize he wasn’t being fully truthful. ‘Why would you do that? What do you have to gain by freeing us?’

‘The pleasure of robbing Quintesson slavers from their prey,’ the Warlord countered easily. Which was true.

‘... I don’t trust you.’ Very wise of him, Megatron thought with approval. ‘But I don’t have much of a choice, do I? Not if I want my team to get out of here.’

If the gag hadn’t been stopping him from doing so, the Warlord would have smirked. ‘Indeed. Don’t worry though, Prime; I’ll make sure the five of you are safe...’


End file.
